iPoke
by Destroyer of Cities
Summary: RE-WRITE IN PROGRESS. UPDATES TO COME. Carly wakes up to a little surprise. Warning inside. Cam.
1. Erection Connection

**_Warning_: This fic contains some things that may offend those who are easily offended or grossed out. I'm not going to tell you what it is exactly, because that would ruin it.**

**Honestly, I didn't even think I would post this, but I figured, why not? It's a little strange, but I got the inspiration from late night television, so what else would you expect? This is a one-shot, but if for some reason people want this continued, I will consider it.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.**

* * *

I open my eyes slowly as the sunlight leaking through the blinds of my window hits my face. It's Saturday, I know this because last night was Friday night and that's why I don't see any of my school books anywhere in sight, because I didn't do any homework or studying at all.

Stretching rather lethargically, I wipe the sleep from my eyes and scoot back a little towards my best friend, who is usually my source of warmth on sleepy mornings like these.

But, wait – what's this? I feel something poking me in the lower back as I move, which is extremely strange, because there is nothing pointy that should be on my bed, especially since there wasn't anything like that on it before Sam and I went to bed last night.

Slowly, and still lazily, I turned around, covering my mouth as I yawned. Then my hand remained over my mouth as I gasped a silent 'oh my.' It appears that there is something inside of Sam's pajama pants causing a tent to form.

You see, this is strange and very 'oh my' worthy, because Sam is 100% female, and there should be no 'tents' forming in her pants, because there is nothing in there that would pitch such a structure.

So, I think that I'm just gonna have a quick look in there and see what's going on. I'm sure Sam won't mind. Heck, she might even thank me if I discover that there's a hamster or something of the like messing around in her PJ bottoms.

I stretch back the waistband of the garment carefully and deliberately, as to not have Sam wake to me peeking in where I usually wouldn't peek. Then, I crane my neck over and glance down and oh my god!

Sam has a penis!

Sam _has_ a penis!

_Sam_ has a _penis_!

Inside of the pajama bottoms, stands an at least seven inch long erect… boy part. I don't know if that's big, but it looks really big to me. And I see that Sam has decided to forgo the use of underwear, so it seems to be looking right at me!

For some reason, I can't stop staring at it. There's no hair on it, and it's not really as gross as I'd image one of these things being up close. Tempted as I am to touch it, I'm afraid of what might happen – I heard these things squirt, and I'm fully aware that they can get you pregnant.

I wonder why it's sticking up like that, because I sure as hell didn't stimulate the thing, and Sam's asleep. I'm getting nervous staring at it, so I use my index finger and try to push it back down. It springs back up, and I was afraid I might wake Sam, but she didn't even stir.

Er. Well.

Okay, maybe it's not gonna squirt at me if I just touch it. I run my finger down the length of it, slowly and it twitches a little, almost like it's _alive_. I giggle a little, because although I should be terribly freaked out that my female best friend has boy parts, it really doesn't seem that bad.

Deciding to become familiar with this new part of Sam, I poke at it a few times, seeing how it holds fast like a steel tower. I'm starting to wonder what it feels like, and Sam won't be up for another two hours because she went to bed late, as is usual for her on a Friday night. It feels kind of wrong to be doing all this while she's asleep, especially since she probably doesn't think I know, but it's an opportunity I'm finding hard to pass up.

Perhaps I can make it un-erect somehow, and when Sam wakes up, we'll be able to avoid the potentially awkward conversation that will ensue. This seems like a really good plan, seeing as how it's hard to sleep with this thing loose in my bed.

But, _how_ will I be able to do it?

There's only one way to find out.

I bite my lip and slowly get off the bed and walk over to my computer. I open up my internet browser and go to the one place that never fails me: Yoohoo Answers.

Typing in 'how to get rid of an erect penis,' – which after getting many disturbing replies, I amend to 'how to get rid of an erection' – brings up a few responses, most of which say to simply masturbate.

Well, duh. I'm sixteen, not stupid. I know that masturbation is the easy way, but I don't know how to make Sam masturbate in her sleep. Plus, typing 'how to masturbate' would make me feel dirty.

Finally, I find an answer where a guy gives instructions in explicit detail on exactly what to do with the… ehem, erected appendage. From this same answer, I find out that when someone else does it for you, it's called a 'hand job.' How crude.

I commit the important steps to memory and tip toe back into my bed after closing down the internet and erasing the history, lest Sam, or worst _Spencer_, find what I've been looking up.

As I climb onto the bed, I pick up the small bottle of hand lotion on my bedside table and fish inside the small drawer attached to it for my box of Kleenex. Nervously, I turn over to the still deep-sleeping Sam, setting the box of tissues on the pillow beside Sam's head.

I squeeze out a small amount of lotion into my palm and rub my palm against what I'm assuming is Sam's 'shaft.' I smooth the lotion over her length, and then wrap my hand around her, realizing for the first time how firm her penis is. It feels very solid, yet at the same time, non-rigid. The thing that really gets me is how soft the skin covering it is.

Slowly, I move my hand up and down her shaft, watching as her cheeks flush slightly and her hips buck every once in a while. I get brave and pump a little faster, then pass a finger over her 'head,' causing her to let out a small whimper.

I'm kind of enjoying this, and after a little while, Sam's breath hitches, and I think she's going to ejaculate, so I hold the tissue to the top of her head and a moment later, I feel something very warm half shoot, half ooze into the tissue and I hear Sam release a very long, audible groan that causes me to shiver a little in a good way.

When I'm sure it's over, I take my hands away from her private area and examine the tissue. I guess this white junk is what semen is. Big whoop, right?

When I pull Sam's pajama pants back up, she's still kind of stiff, but if Yoohoo Answers is correct, - and it always is - it should go down shortly. I slide off of the bed to throw the tissue into the bathroom waste bin. When I get back into bed, Sam's tent is lopsided and near collapsed, which gives me a strange satisfied feeling.

I hurry in putting away the tissues and lotion so that everything is as it was before and lay down again.

This time, when I scoot up against Sam, nothing pokes me in the back and I drift back to sleep peacefully.


	2. Liquid Dreams

**Hey everyone! I hope you all are glad to see that I will be continuing this, at least for another chapter or two after this, depending on the response I get from my lovely reviewers, of course. I swear, I have the best reviewers in the world! (:**

**I'm looking for a beta for any/all of my stories, so if you're interested, let me know! And thank you all for the positive responses, I read and appreciate them all! And thank you for not flaming, I appreciate the respect (:**

**Dedicated to: knifeinback, who will also have a story of this theme possibly coming out soon! If you like this, I recommend checking her stuff out!**

* * *

I'm lying on a bed and I see her walk into the room that I'm in, which, if this were real life, would be hers. I sit up, signaling that my attention was focused completely on her and she shoots me a smirk, almost as if to say, 'I know.'

She struts over to me, all confident and sexy, and I can hardly stand it. I'm turned-on already and I'm just waiting for her to come and get what's coming.

Her shirt hits the floor and her skinny jeans are flung to the beanbag chair in the left corner of the room. She's climbing onto the bed and her dark brown hair falls into her face a little as she leans towards me and presses her lips to mine. My hands reach out and grab her, pulling her flush against me and penetrating her lips with my tongue.

She gasps when she feels my erection pressing into her stomach. Her hand reaches down and teases my head with a manicured fingernail and it's my turn to gasp at the unique sensation that she's sending through my thighs to my brain.

"Sammy," she whispers into my ear with her husky voice and I can feel my cock twitch in anticipation. I feel her take me into one of her hands and give me a good tug. I take in a sharp breath and readjust my sitting position.

My hips buck in pleasure as she grips me tight in her hand and pumps in swift, long strokes. I begin to grow eager for release, but before I can even request anything, I feel a pair of sweet lips wrapping themselves around my cock.

I shudder all the way down to my bones as her lips slide up and down the length of my shaft. "Oh, c-Carly," I stutter out, lacing both of my hands through her hair as I back up to where I am leaning against the wall for support.

As she pulls up, I can feel her tongue swirling over my head, teasing and daring me to shove myself deeper into her mouth. My hips buck, and at the same time, I press down on the back of her head, forcing her to take my entire length into her mouth. She makes a small noise of surprise, and I nearly pass out as I feel the head of my penis grazing against the soft tissue at the very back of her throat.

"So nice," I groan out, using one of my hands to cover my face as I get closer to climaxing. I'm tempted to cum here and now, but I want to savor this feeling for a little bit longer.

She removes her mouth from my erection and runs a tongue along the length of my shaft slowly; up and down, up and down, up and fuck –

One of my hands goes on my cock and I pump a few times before I begin to ejaculate into my beloved Carly's waiting open mouth.

My vision is blurred as I stare at the ceiling, nearly rolling my eyes into the back of my head as I spill myself onto her hungry tongue.

When my sight clears, I look down to see her closing her mouth and swallowing, then licking her lips and smiling at me.

"Was that alright?" she asks me, looking confident, but I could still see a slight hint of nerves in her expression.

"It was perfect," I say, taking her into my arms and laying down with her with a smile on my face.

I blink awake, and instantly recalling the highly inappropriate dream that I just had, I was on Boner Alert: Code Red. I reach my hand down into my pajama bottoms and grab myself, but I'm completely soft; not even a little bit stiff.

"Odd," I whisper to myself. I relax, but then I become aware of my current sleeping arrangements. Carly's ass is pressed directly into my crotch, and I'm so tempted to just grind into her, or worst – I won't even go there.

Carly makes a slight humming noise in her sleep and presses harder into me and I instinctually press back before I can stop myself. I can feel the blood rushing to my cock and pretty soon, I'll be hard and ready to ravage – no, no, no.

I sit up and climb over her carefully. Maybe some cold water will help me calm down.

When I reach the bathroom, I decide that I'm tragically overdue for a piss. I pull the pants down slightly and begin executing perfect aim, not even bothering to lift the seat.

Something smells off and I sniff my finger. It smells like really fruity hand lotion, and that's odd because I haven't used any scented lotions recently and I surely haven't been rubbing any on my junk.

I shrug and walk over to the sink. I turn the faucet and splash cold water on my face, instantly distracting me from any Carly-screwing thoughts that I had, or had been having.

"How long am I going to have these feelings?" I ask myself in a whisper, and open the door to head back to bed.


	3. Rise and Shine

**Hey guys! I just want you all to know that I utterly astounded at the positive response that I have received for this story! It definitely encourages me to finish this, and to possibly write more of this theme in the future! I have the best readers/reviewers in the world, and I thank you all. And I hope you guys checked out knifeinback's piece on this theme, it's out now (:**

**Please, enjoy.**

* * *

The sound of a door closing pulls me out of my slumber, but I refuse to open my eyes just yet. As I cling to the last few moments of sleep, I blink slowly and rub at my face, trying to clear my vision.

I hear a faucet run briefly, and then I see Sam walking out of the bathroom at a sloth-like pace. Looking really close, I can barely make out the outline of Sam's limp penis moving against the material of her pajama pants as she walks towards the bed; at least, I _think_ I can now that I know it's there.

Instead of going around me, Sam chooses to climb over me to get to her side of the bed. As her crotch area hovers over my face, my breath catches in my throat slightly and I squirm underneath her.

Once she gets all settled into bed again, I turn and face her. She stares into my eyes and I stare back, as if waiting for her to confess to me about her having boy parts when the Sam I know is a girl.

"Hey, cupcake," she breathes with her sleepy Sam voice. I shiver slightly, and her clear blue eyes stare at me, waiting for a reply.

"Good morning," I reply, blushing as she reaches out and brushes some hair out of my face tenderly.

"It's noon." She shifts herself a little bit towards me and takes me into one of her sweet Sam hugs that I only get when we're alone. I move towards her in the embrace and push my hips towards hers a little, to see if I can brush against her penis. Then she'll _have_ to confess.

I hear – and more so feel – Sam release a low, guttural groan as I brush my knee against what I suppose was the head of her penis. There was barely any contact, so that thing must be ultra-sensitive or something.

"Watch it, cupcake," she mutters in my ear in a way that sends the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up straight and a shiver straight down my spine.

"Why?" I question with a small, victorious smile.

"I have some bruises on my thigh, and they're real bitches," she responds, and at once the victory is rescinded from my face.

"Oh," I say and fall silent, contemplating my next move.

"Carly," Sam moans into my ear in a husky voice and immediately I snap to attention.

"Yeah?" I respond, doing a mental check-list of all my body parts to see if I accidentally touched, squeezed, or grazed something, but to my knowledge I didn't.

"I'm hungry."

--

After slaving over a hot toaster and microwave to feed Sam, we sit on the couch watching Girly Cow reruns. I can't seem to think of a single way to get her to admit, confess, or even mention her boy part.

I've tried talking about boys, talking about anatomy, and even talking about cannibalism, but nothing seems to work. Honestly, how can I get Sam to bring it up?

Suddenly, an idea forms in my head; it's crude, but it just might work. I search my mind for the numeric code of Spencer's 'special' channel, and without warning I switch it on.

"_Oh, Ashley!" an ample-busted woman in a bikini and her similarly clad friend ran down the shore of a beach chasing a golden retriever puppy holding a stick._

"_Yeah, Jennifer?" the one who looked like a tall Megan Fox replied._

"_Isn't it great being hot and having big tits?" she asked her friend, her blonde hair flowing behind her gracefully as they went along._

"_It sure is! Whoops, dropped something!" she exclaimed, then bent down really slow to pick up what appeared to be nothing as the camera zoomed in on her ass._

The look on Sam's face is priceless once she realizes what I've put on the television, and when she turns to look at me, I look away from her and stare straight at the images playing across the screen.

"Carly, what's the chiz?" she asks, looking a bit ruffled at the display of booty on the screen.

I shrug and set the remote down next to me. "I kinda like this channel," I lie semi-nonchalantly, and semi-typical Carly-trying-to-lie-ishly – which in case you don't know, is a synonym for 'terribly.'

Sam mouths a silent 'oh,' and turns her head back to the screen, looking nervous. Every so often, she shifts her legs slightly, and I smirk when I see an ever-so-slight bulge in her pajama pants forming.

That brought it up alright.

She reaches for one of the couch cushions and puts it over her crotch area slowly, probably trying to avoid attracting my attention; too bad, she's got it. I see a pink blush forming on her cheeks and spreading all the way from her neck to her ears.

"Can we watch something else?" Sam all but croaks out, and I can tell her throat is dry just by the way she keeps swallowing.

"Like what?" I ask, turning my head to look at her and smiling.

"Anything," she replies quickly, and I see that she's pinching herself, but I can't figure out why. Maybe she's trying to focus on the pain instead of the sexy girls on the show?

"But, I like this," I say, pouting a little and Sam seems to be going through very much dismay.

"I'll be right back," she says, standing from the couch.

"Stay," I command, grabbing her hand.

"I have to pee,"

"Don't you mean 'penis?'"

"Come again?" she questions, looking incredulous, but underneath there are tones of nervousness and worry tinting her face.

"Sam," I say, looking my best friend in the eyes. "I know you have a penis,"

"What? How?" I can see her entering into a more-than-slight panic.

I fold my hands on my lap and bite my lip. "Because, I woke up early today to you poking me in the back," I say, doing my best not to blush at the memory.

"Then how come I didn't wake up with an erection? I had none at all when I got up. That doesn't make any sense," she looks at me suspiciously.

"Well," I can no longer fight the blush, and I rub the back of my neck in embarrassment as Sam's gaze is fixed onto me. "I handled it,"

"Handled it?" she questions slowly, and I can tell she's trying not to flip out.

"Um. I kinda gave you a 'hand job,'" I mumble, making the hand motion that went along with the task I had performed, grinning nervously.

"Wait," Sam holds both of her hands out in front of her as if to stop me in my imaginary tracks, and she's squinting at me with her head cocked. Heh, cocked. "Let me see if I've got this straight: you discover that I – your best friend – have a penis, so your first instinct is to reach into my pants and grab it; and jerk me off, no less?"

"Er, well, if you say it like _that!_" I protest as a blush covers my entire face making me appear almost sunburned.

"I was wondering why it smelled fruity, like that lotion you have," Sam mutters as she flops back down onto the couch next to me. I can't help but allow my eyes to wander to her crotch and the bulge that resides there.

When I look up, Sam's eyes are fixated on me and she has a single eyebrow raised in question. Dang, looks like I've been caught.

"Are you freaked out?" she asks, in a softer voice than I had expected.

"No, I like it," I reply, biting on my lower lip and contemplating whether I should ask her if I could play with it, just for a little.

She nods and says nothing, and her eyes drift back to the screen, watching the two women having pillow fight while scantily clad.

"Are _you_ freaked out?" I ask her, nervous that she might not want to sleep in the same room as me anymore.

"No," she says, lazily running a finger over the top of her bulge as she watches the brunette - but mostly her ass - get a thirty second close-up. "Why'd you do it?" she seems to question out of nowhere.

I don't quite know how to answer that question without making myself seem like a pervert, but I figure, why the hell not? "It was really tempting, just poking out of your pajama bottoms. It's kinda hard to resist not touching it, in a way."

Sam's eyes nearly bugged out of her head at my words. "I don't even wanna know what that means," she mumbles and gives me a sideways glance.

"It's just so firm and unyielding and it feels really nice to stroke –"

"Whoa, whoa, stop!" she covers her ears and I can see that her bulge has grown quite a bit in size within the last few moments.

"Why?" I ask, although I know very well the reason why.

She mumbled something quiet and indecipherable under her breath and trained her vision back to the television screen as her face flushed pink.

"I didn't hear you, Sam." I grin as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"I said, because you're making me hard," she nearly croaked out, biting her lower lip and refusing to look at me.

"Does that mean you wanna do me or something?" I ask, scooting a little closer to her, which causes her to become visibly unsettled.

"No, it means you're filling my head with shit," Sam replies, slightly annoyed and I grin.

"It's not my fault you have a pretty penis," I retort with a shrug and change the channel back to Girly Cow.


	4. Popsicle Theory

Chapter: Popsicle Theory

After a long day of school and finishing up homework, Sam and I are getting ready for bed. It's been three days since the incident, and she hasn't slept over since, so I'm hoping that there won't be any lingering tension or hard feelings about me 'tugging on her rod' while she was asleep, as she crudely put it.

I gather up my clothes for after my shower, along with a towel and another for my hair. Sam's in the shower at the moment, and I have to pee, so I decide that there wouldn't be much harm in me just going in really quick. She probably won't even notice, seeing as she's not the most observant of people out there.

Let's be honest, she's not even close. She's on par with a blind pet rock.

When I gently push the door of the bathroom open, a burst of steam hits my face and obscures my vision. After my eyes adjust, I see Sam – not in the shower. She's covered in what I'd assume to be sweat rather than water sitting on top of lid of the toilet, with a towel around her waist and a large erection gripped firmly in her right hand.

She expertly stretched it a few times before slowly working her hand up and down her long shaft, twisting as she went along. I was completely captivated at the sight of Sam handling herself and I got a burning feeling in the pit of my stomach when I heard her low growling noise of pleasure escape her throat, as well as a stray whimper or two when she rubbed her thumb over her head.

Finally noticing me, Sam turned to view me with dark, heavily-lidded eyes and a light blush across the bridge of her nose. When she registered that it was actually me standing there and not some, I don't know, penis induced delusion, standing and watching her 'handling herself,' her eyes widened and her face went red with embarrassment.

"Carly, what are you doing!" she shrieked as her hand flew from her crotch and went to covering her erection up with the towel.

"What are _you_ doing?" I reply, crossing my hands over my chest, trying to somehow convince her that I was the one who had the right to be asking questions and trying not to stare at the throbbing pole between her legs.

Sam's face went slightly less red and she bit her lower lip guiltily. "I'm trying to prevent morning wood."

I tilt my head to the side in confusion. "What's 'morning wood,'" I ask, using air quotes where appropriate. It sounded like some old-timey breakfast cereal that my grandfather in Yakima would thoroughly enjoy.

"An erection," she mumbles under her breath. "In my sleep."

"Oh," I breathe and my face flushes completely. I wring my hand together in nervousness and consider if saying what I'm about to say is wise or ladylike. "You know, I don't mind giving you hand jobs."

Sam's eyes widen and she looks like she's badly choking on her own saliva. She stands up, gripping the towel around her waist and erection, and reaches into the shower to turn the faucet off, in what I suppose would be an attempt to turn the temperature down in the steam-clouded bathroom.

"Well," she begins, running a stray hand through her blonde locks as she sits again. "You should." She's staring me straight in the eye, and it's making me nervous how her gaze flicks over the entirety of my body every few moments.

"Why?" I ask in defiance, challenging her stare with mine.

"I might start wanting to do things to you that I shouldn't," Sam nearly grits out, and it looks like her penis is trying to burst right out of the towel and into the free, open air. I shift my legs together as a mild discomfort seems to grow there. Are my jeans too tight?

"You should finish," I suggest as I eye her rigid tent. Sam's face looks nearly pained and I know she really wants to complete what she had originally set out to do. I see her look at me expectantly, and I just raise a brow at her. "Aren't you going to?" I prod.

"I will, when you leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," I say as I lean myself up against the bathroom door.

"I'm not much of an exhibitionist," Sam mutters, but she opens up her towel again anyhow, taking her swollen member in hand and begins to caress it once more.

"How does that feel?" I ask her as her face turns to one of immense pleasure.

"Good," she drawls, as her movements become more swift. It's actually exciting to watch and I want to participate, so I walk over to her and take hold of her penis, knocking her own hand off of the impressive limb. I straddle her lap and move my wrist as I pump her the same way I did the last time, only this time I wasn't as clueless.

"Shit, Carls," she moans, pushing both of her hands through her hair and bucking her hips into my palm urgently. Her toned stomach was covered in beads of water vapor and perspiration as the muscles clenched and unclenched with each thrusting movement.

Part of me began to wonder what sex would be like with her. I mean, like having her inside me and delivering all this raw force into my insides. I shudder, not wanting to find out if it would feel painful, or really good like people said it would.

I lick my fingertip and trace it over Sam's head slowly, and watch as she throws her head back in pleasure and her breathing becomes uneven. I reach to the left of the toilet and take some of the tissue off of the roll, holding it above Sam's head as she begins to ejaculate. While she's unloading, she releases a rather girl-like moan, which throws me off guard a little, but I prefer Sam as a girl, so it's actually a good thing.

Her breathing is deep and labored as she continues to stream her seed into the material in my palm. Her face is completely pink and there's a bit more than I remember there being last time, but I'm gathering that these are both good things when it comes to sexual things.

She pumps herself a few more times, allowing the last of the substance to escape her and she heaves a heavy sigh of relief, allowing a contented look to cross her features. Again, I feel satisfied seeing her once-erect penis leaning near-limp and tired to the side, nearly resting on her thigh.

"Carly," Sam breathes out, and touches my cheek gently, sending electric shocks through my skin all the way to the fiery, burning pit that was once my stomach.

"Sam," I answer, watching with interest as she attempted to catch her breath.

"We can't do that again," she breathes, but the look in her eyes is telling me something along the lines of 'I want to bend you over and do bad things to you.'

"Why not?" I ask, pouting. I was really starting to get the hang of this, too.

"Because it's bad, Carly. We're supposed to be best friends," she says, scooting me off of her lap and standing to turn the shower back on again. She slings her towel over the shower's railing, and turns away from me so that I can't see the front side of her naked body.

"Sam, I'm just helping you," I say, grabbing her arm and turning her around slightly. Her body is gorgeous, from top to bottom. And while I'm caught up with examining her, she takes her arm out of my grip and steps into the shower, ending our conversation.

--

When she emerges, she's dry and wearing a tank top and boy shorts. I can make out the outline of her_ you-know-what _perfectly and it excites me a little as she approaches the bed with her confident, nearly dominating strides.

"So, what do I do if you have this 'morning wood' business and it's all over the place?" I ask as Sam climbs into bed beside me.

"Just wake me up and I'll take care of it," she says, unconsciously allowing her hand to wander down to her crotch and 'adjust' herself.

"Why can't I just take care of it? Is how I do it not good enough for you?" I ask, feeling suddenly extremely insecure.

"It's not that, Carly. You do… really good," she says after finding the right words. I just don't want you to. God forbid I wake up with another fruit scented cock," she jokes, giving me a lopsided smirk, which brought to mind the way that her tent would turn lopsided after I satisfied its needs, which sends a chilly shudder down my spine.

The way that Sam says the word 'cock' is really sexy. Just saying. "I can use different lotions," I offer, not wanting to give this debate up without a fight.

Sam laughs and pulls me into a tight hug, and I can tell she's being extra careful not to press me against her privates. "No, cupcake. Don't play with my penis anymore," she commands and I pout at her.

"Then what can I do with it?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. If playing was out of the question, I'm sure there was _something_ I could do to help.

Sam's body seems to freeze a bit at my words, and I can tell that her mind was racing with things to tell me. "Nothing," she mutters, but her voice lacks the definitive sense of finality.

"Can I touch it?" I ask.

"No,"

"Can I stroke it?"

"Double-no."

"Can I lick it?"

"…"

"Sam?"

"No, you can't lick it."

There are only so many things that I can think of when it comes to appendages such as Sam's. I wrack my brain, but nothing strikes me as plausible. Suddenly, popsicles come to mind.

"Can I suck it?"

I feel Sam's body go completely limp behind me and I feel her make a 'thud' as she falls backwards onto the bed. I turn around and see that she probably passed out from blood loss from her head, because it was all redirected to her penis.

"I guess that's a 'no,' too," I mutter to myself, even though depending on how it's looked at, it could be seen as a _big_ 'yes.'


	5. Flowers and Fast Hands

**Hey! I guess this story will be longer than I anticipated, so sit back and enjoy. I will probably begin to wrap it up when people begin to lose interest/stop reviewing. This chapter was actually really fun to write, and I'm not talking about the dirty bits haha**

**So, how are you guys liking the developments? I've started to piece together a plot, so we'll see how well that goes.**

**Also, knifeinback**** has updated _Different_**** with a second chapter! If you haven't read it already and you enjoy this story, please do. It's the same basic theme, but a completely different plot, etc. **

* * *

I'm slipping out of my sleepy haze and into the land of wakefulness, slowly but surely. Something is bothering me and keeping me from obtaining the amount of rest that I so desperately need, but I can't seem to pinpoint exactly what that thing is.

Blinking open my eyes, I stare through the darkness and see that once again, Sam's member is rock-hard and poking into my stomach as if urging me to take care of it. The only difference between this and the last time is that this time it's 3AM on a Thursday morning and we have school later.

My mind flicks back to a few days ago when Sam told me not to 'play' with her privates anymore, but if I were to wake her up to take care of her erection, then she would never wake up in the morning and we'd be late for school. I figure that it's better that I just handle this one myself.

As she lies on her side facing towards me, I blindly reach into her loose pajama pants and free her member from its confines. At once, it stands at attention, expectantly pointing straight at me. I wrap my hand around her, not even able to get my hand all the way around it due to the thickness of her shaft, and give it a few gentle tugs and feel it expand, or so it seems, as more of Sam's blood flows to her lower extremities.

A low 'mm' escapes her lips as I begin to stroke her, slow and long. As I do this, I pull a small pack of tissues from under my pillow and manage to free one from its cumbersome container with my free hand.

Sam's hips jerk towards my hand and in surprise, I squeeze instinctually. At first, I'm worried that I would hurt her, but when she releases a very audible hiss of pleasure I squeeze again, this time while tugging. It seems that nearly everything you do to one of these things feels good; I'm not even exaggerating.

I run my fingertip along the top of her head with every slow pump that I do and I can tell Sam is getting closer to finishing by the way she's bucking into my palms and I'm almost too engrossed in watching to remember that if I didn't use the tissue soon, I'd have quite the mess on my hands.

When I hear Sam gasp slightly, I hold the tissue in front of her head, readily awaiting her ejaculation. A moment later, she began to squirt her warm liquids into the material while softly whimpering, and a dark pink blush covering her cheeks. Really, she looks adorable right now.

I give her a few more solid strokes as she finishes off her climax. After her breathing begins to return to normal, I release her from my grip and pull her pajama bottoms back over her penis and let them rest on her hips. Standing from the bed slowly as not to make noise, I trot over to the bathroom and dispose of the tissue.

As I tiptoe across the room and climb back into bed, I can't resist smiling at seeing the content expression that was planted onto Sam's face as she slept soundly.

--

At school that day, me and Sam walked up to our lockers to find Freddie waiting, leaned up against mine with his hair slicked back and holding a large bouquet of roses. I felt my stomach sink as we approached him. I wasn't in the mood to be asked on a date, having gone through enough of that from him in the past week – or for the past year for that matter.

"Hey, Carly," he said in what he most likely assumed to be a mature, 'smooth and/or suave' tone of voice. He looked over at Sam and glared. "Sam," he nearly spat, wrinkling up his nose in a way that made his face resemble a shaved cat.

Sam simply nods in response without even casting a glance in his direction and opened her locker nonchalantly, not even caring to ask about the flowers. Her aloofness actually seems to bother me for some reason that I couldn't place. I wanted her to get mad and smack the flowers out of Freddie's hands. I wanted her to stomp on them and publicly ridicule for getting the idea in his head that I would want him.

I wanted her to be… _jealous_?

"Hey, Freddie," I greet him back and push him out of the way to gain access to my locker. He looks at me like a slapped puppy and holds the flowers towards me with shaking, sweaty Freddie-hands. I barely manage to resist the urge to wretch for his sake, and his sake alone.

"Carly, these are for you. Will you go on a date with me?" he asks, and this time I guess he expects me to say 'yes.' But, for that matter, a part of him probably believes that I'll say yes each time he asks. How terribly sad.

"I'll think about it," I reply, watching Sam's expression closely and seeing her not so much as flinch as she sniffs around searching for something edible in her locker.

Freddie's face lights up, and he bolts away from me – probably so that I wouldn't have a chance to take it back, change my mind, or come to my senses – taking the flowers with him in all of his excitement.

As I watch him running down the hallway bumping into various classmates and a few teachers, I feel the vibrations of a palm being placed roughly to the right of my head against the locker that I was leaning on. I look up and see Sam, who now towers three inches over me at least, looking down at me with dark blue eyes curious and narrow as her blonde hair fell into her eyes and tickled my face.

"You agreed to perhaps go on a date with Fredward," she states in a low voice, as if she was letting me in on some dirty secret. I bite down gently on my lip and cast my gaze down to _her_ dirty secret, blushing as I remembered my late night escapades involving it. I wonder if she would get mad if she knew.

"Yeah, I wanted to get him off of my case," I mutter, feeling slightly intimidated by how close she was standing and seemingly boxing me in. "I'm not really going to."

"Good," she says in a resolving tone, but she doesn't move her hand or her body. She's peering down at me with intense eyes and I want her to look at me like this all the time – like only I exist or matter.

"You're late," she says with a blank expression on her face, and as she moves to walk away, the late bell rings.

"Dammit, Sam!" I call, following her to our class as she swaggers away.


	6. Your Place or Mine?

**Hey everyone! Long time no see, I know! I hope everybody has been well. I apologize for not updating, I deeply do. I've ad computer issues that I have yet to sort out, so this update might be the last for a while, I am sorry to announce. But, I do promise that I will not leave this story, or my other two unresolved if I can help it and I thank everyone for their patience (: I really do have the best readers and reviewers in the world! And don't forget to keep checking out knifeinback's stuff! It's excellent!**

**Also, I am still accepting one-shot requests! Please send some in, I get bored since I can't work on my other stories!**

* * *

Although I am all for education and the power it brings, Chemistry is boring and should no longer be taught; nothing personal to anyone who adores the subject. Sam is sitting next to me, nearly dropping asleep as the teacher drones on and I'm not even inclined to prod her awake because it's completely pointless - much like this class.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a note of some kind is 'discreetly' – that is, as in well within clear view of everyone – passed to Sam by the dark haired boy, Zach, I believe, sitting to her right. I observe the flowery way that 'Sam' is etched onto the folded lined paper and deduce that it was from another girl. A quick peek around the room and a smirking redhead later, I further deduce that the note was most likely from Wendy.

What does Wendy want with Sam? Seeing as she has quite a shady nature, it probably isn't anything good.

Sam looks over at me and shrugs, holding the note in her lap as she unfolded it. Her eyes quickly scanned its contents. Then, she proceeded to rip the paper into bits and crumple the bits into a wad and swallow it whole. Interesting.

--

At lunch, Sam seemed to be upset at Freddie for 'forcing' me to consider a date with him, and I allow myself to feel good about that because it's the closest thing to jealousy that I've managed to get out of her yet.

"Carly, he's a nub, don't do it," Sam warns after having devoured all of her food and some of mine. Not that I particularly mind, seeing as how cafeteria food is nearly inedible.

"Sam, be nice," I reply, but I grin because I find her concern endearing. Or something.

"You guys are talking as if I'm not even here, sitting at the same table as you!" Freddie squeals indignantly.

"Yeah, well –"

"Sammie," Sam froze as she was cut off by a new voice. At the same time, Sam and I both turn our heads to find that the new voice was Wendy's. "I brought you a snack," she says holding out a fatcake with a wide grin and a light blush covering the bridge of her nose.

Sam's eyes light up as she snatches the treat from the redhead's palm. Without muttering a 'thank you' – or even thinking about it for that matter – she rips off the wrapper and hungrily devours the fatcake in a single bite.

"I hope you enjoyed it," Wendy said almost suggestively, after Sam finishes chewing, smiling and leaning forward enough for Sam to have a nice view straight down her shirt. "Don't forget to meet me later," she cooed.

She cooed!

"I'll be waiting," she concluded, making eye contact with Sam before winking and turning to saunter off.

She sauntered!

How dare she feed Sam, and_ coo_and _wink_and _saunter_! What a complete slut, she has no class at all.

Sam's eyes seemed trained on Wendy's retreating form and she was practically drooling at the very sight of the girl's slightly swaying butt. Yeah, sure, Wendy had completely filled out in the last year or two and she had an uncle that owned a snack factory, but that was no excuse to be so… so unladylike! The nerve.

--

All day since lunch, I had been waiting for Sam to leave class, but she never did. The clock continued to tick by, but she had yet to budge. I smirked to myself in satisfaction. _'Eat dirt, Wendy, Sam's not coming,' _I thought to myself.

But, during 6th hour, twenty minutes before the bell was set to ring to signal the end of the day, Sam stood from her seat and exited the classroom without so much as uttering a word. Our teacher, Mr. Ernest, having known Sam for half a year already, simply pushed his glasses further up his nose and resumed the lesson.

Not wanting to miss anything, I rise from my seat and attempt to follow Sam.

"Miss Shay, where do you think you're going?"

"Er, may I please go use the restroom to vomit violently?" I blurt out.

"You may," he said nodding, seeming satisfied.

I quickly exit the classroom, and after spotting Sam and Wendy in the hall, I duck behind a row of lockers so that I won't be seen.

"I guess we could," Sam says, shrugging. She's leaned up against a locker, her posture was cool and composed, but her face was out of view seeing as her back was facing towards me.

Wendy smiles and bites her bottom lip. "Your place or mine?" she asks, reaching out and running a slow finger down Sam's arm. She's batting lashes now and by the way Sam's body reacts, her touch is hot.

"It doesn't matter, as long as you're there," Sam delivers smoothly, and I would congratulate her on her game if I weren't spying and if she wasn't using it on _Wendy_.

"Oh, Sam," she cooed back, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Just be at my place Saturday night," she commanded gently, leaning in towards Sam. "I'll be sure to show you a good time," she says in a low, nearly seductive voice.

My grip on the locker tightens considerably and I'm not sure just how to describe how I'm feeling, so I don't even try. What could Sam be thinking? Or better yet, what wasn't she thinking?

--

Back at the loft, Sam sits on my bed wearing boxer briefs with her legs crossed, which sounds a bit awkward, but for her it looks perfectly natural. Her tight underwear actually lets me see a near-perfect and dangerously explicit outline of her private parts. I lick my dry lips to moisten them.

"You aren't going on a date with Freddie," Sam says after I close my math book, having completed the homework assignment for the night; Sam had decided to opt out of it and I didn't bother to argue about that tonight. "I've decided for you, so you can tell him that you're no longer considering." She picks up my math book and tosses it on the ground as she scoots closer to me. "Capice?"

I perk an eyebrow at the last part of her statement. "I didn't know you spoke Italian, Sam." I joke, smiling as she rolls her eyes at me.

"Hey, I'm serious," she defends, giving me a toothy grin.

"Why do you get to decide?" I ask, lifting up the corner of my mouth in a defiant smirk.

Sam snorts a laugh in response. She stands up on her knees for a moment before leaning over and dropping herself down on top of me, successfully knocking me over and pinning both my wrists above me head. "Because, I _own_ you, Shay," she growls out playfully and I can tell that she's trying hard not to let her private area touch me, but this position gives me a clear view of everything and I can't stop staring as her pelvis hangs above mine.

"Carly, if you keep staring at him, he's going to think you like him," she says in an overly cocky voice and releases my wrists.

"Who?" I ask, glancing around curiously.

Sam only smirks before groping between her legs and giving herself a slight squeeze-and-shake. "Dirty Dangerfield," she proclaims proudly.

"Er. You named it."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Sam asks.

"Because it's a body part?"

"I swear, he has a mind of his own," Sam replies, and I guess she's right if she's associating with Wendy.

"It's a 'him?'" I ask.

"What else would it be?" Sam shoots back.

I nod. "Fair enough."

"Do you like his name?" she asks. "It suits him, doesn't it?"

"We'll work on it."


	7. Sound the Alarm!

**Hello everyone! Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapter, I know it sucks that I wasn't able to update for a time, but now I'm back. I think a lot of you will like this chapter because it's kinda like one point for team CAM. So, leave me some love (reviews) if you have any commentary on this, I love seeing what you guys have to say every time I put a chapter out. **

**Also, I'll have another chapter of my other story iChange soon. I'm not very inspired for my other story, iNeed a Second Chance, so who knows when I'll update that. Of course, you guys could always help me with that if you like the story.**

**Anyhow, enough chit-chat, enjoy! **

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"Er, do you like girls?" Carly blurts out awkwardly, breaking the previously comfortable silence between the two of us as we watched a television show on how to build homemade explosives. Actually, I was pretty surprised that she was letting me watch this show at all, seeing as how I'm prone to use my knowledge for crime and general misdeeds.

I turn my head slowly from the screen to look at her and her eyes are riveted to the television, wide open and they almost appear to be sweating with nerves. I scrunch up my nose in thought, calculating my answer so that it expresses exactly how I feel. I need to say something deep and prophetic.

"Hm, I suppose so. Guys seem to generally lack the essential vagina that my penis craves and needs to survive," I say, grinning lopsidedly.

Her head snaps towards me and her jaw is hanging down somewhere past her collarbone, I think. "Sam, please go easy on the crude language!" she reprimands, and I shrug, because it's true. She's biting her lower lip tentatively now, and she's wringing her hands in her nervous and pensive way.

Here it comes. It was nice being able to share a bed with the object of my direct and concentrated affection while it lasted. It was a good ride.

"Do you wanna sleep over tonight?" she asks.

I arch a brow, not exactly certain what I should think. "Sure," I respond, choosing not to mess with it. It's either she really isn't freaked out that my job is to chase what she has between her legs, or she's going to make me sleep on the couch. Either way, that's a lot more mercy than I expected.

.

"So, what type of girls do you like?" she questions, and to anyone else, that inquiry of hers might seem completely out of the blue. But if I know Carly, and I do, it's been on her mind for at least the last three hours.

"I dunno," I answer semi-sincerely. Besides Carly, and to a sexual-based degree, Wendy, I don't know much in the way of my 'type.' "I just like girls in general, I suppose. I haven't really tried any out or anything."

Carly lifts her head from my shoulder and seems to be examining me with her piercingly dark eyes. I shift in my seat, trying to signal to her how totally unnerved she's causing me to be, but it doesn't seem to work very well because she doesn't stop staring until the commercial break ends and The Wonderful World of Ham returns.

"That's interesting," Carly mutters as she puts her head back down onto my shoulder, and again, to anyone else, they would assume the matter to be dropped, but this is Carly Shay, and I, Sam Puckett, have no such luck. "Is there something that attracts you to certain girls more than others?"

Here it goes. Now, I must formulate a response that shows the depth of my soul and my outlook on the world, without a doubt proving to Carly once and for all that I have many complex feelings and thoughts and shit. It will be like poetry.

"Well, I really like the ones with vaginas. Vaginas and boobs really seem to do it for me."

I can feel the urge to squirt me with a spray bottle overcoming her and I hold my hands up in surrender before she can remember where she put that bastard of a device. "Kidding! I'm kidding!" I holler through my side-splitting laughter, very eager to maintain my current state of being dry. "I just like girls that are pretty much DTF."

"Oh," Carly says, nodding slowly and eyeing me warily. "That's cool, I guess."

"You don't know what that means, do you?" I ask, grinning.

"Er, not really," she admits and I let out a chuckle. "And I have a feeling that I won't like it, so I'm perfectly content with ignorance," she says and I nod in agreement with her.

"That's the way to be," I respond.

.

**Carly's Point of View**

"Aren't we staying up late tonight?" I ask Sam, who is lazing on my bed already. I wouldn't mind turning in early on a Friday night for a change, but the thought alone usually makes Sam gag in absurd disgust.

"Hell yeah!" she exclaims, sitting up and fixing me with a tired grin. "I just need some caffeine," she says, getting up from the bed and walking out of the door. "I'm going down to the kitchen to grab some Peppy Cola, want one?" she asks, already halfway down the stairs.

"Nah, I'm good," I say, not really wanting to have to pee a million times from drinking too much soda like I usually made the mistake of doing.

"Your loss!" I hear her call from downstairs. I roll my eyes at her childish behavior and start walking around my room and picking up clothes so I can all have them in the hamper for laundry tomorrow when Spencer was supposed to be home. I honestly think that he spends more time with his friends than at home sometimes.

I jump in fright when I feel a pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist, but then I hear a very Sam-flavored laugh enter my ears as she rests her chin on my shoulder and I can feel her body slightly brushing against my back, but at the same time I can tell that she's being careful not to violate me with her, ehem, package.

"Carly," Sam whines. "You're out of Peppy Cola! I had to drink the last one," she says, but I can't even pay attention to her whining when all I can think about is how I can sense her penis hovering an inch behind my back. For some reason, I just know it's there and now that I think about it, I can't believe that I never noticed it before.

"Are you listening to me?" she drawls, letting me go and flopping herself onto my bed in annoyance at the trance I was in.

"Yeah, I just don't want to hear you whining about soda," I say, smiling at how her jaw drops in mock offense. She's going off about how I'm supposed to be ladylike and that all I had left was Diet Peppy and how it doesn't taste at all the same. My mind wanders in thought as I naturally tune her out.

I got Sam to confirm the fact that she likes girls, and I'm still letting her sleep in my bed. Some would say I'm asking for it, and others would probably say that I'm desperate, when the truth is I don't want to ostracize my friend for being how she is. I'm pretty sure having a penis could give her some inclination to wanting a female companion.

My face flushes when my last thought registers to me. _I'm female,_ I think to myself. But, I doubt I'm the kind of girl Sam wants. She wants a girl who's more like Wendy – fully developed, bubbly, slutty.

"Carly, you're smirking to yourself, what are you thinking?" Sam asks, but all I do is laugh to myself, most likely sparking her curiosity further.

.

**Sam's Point of View**

I love sleeping over at Carly's house, I really do. From raiding her fridge, to watching endless re-runs of Girly Cow, to lazing around in her bed all day, the time spent with my best friend is, and always has been, priceless.

But, this is ridiculous.

"What is it?" I ask, but since it was the ten-thousandth time I had asked in the last two hours, the question has lost its sense of inquiry and it came out more as a demand than anything else.

"Er, I don't know what you mean!" Carly blurts out, jolting off of the couch and jogging to the fridge. "Ham! Do you want some ham?" Carly asks me, frantic to get me off of her case, but if she doesn't come right out with it soon then I think that she'll explode into little pieces of Carly confetti.

"You know that I can't turn down ham," I mumble as I stand from the couch, sighing and walking over to where Carly stood. She closes the refrigerator door and turns around, only to meet face-to-face with me. She jumps slightly in shock and takes a cautious step back, bumping into the fridge and causing her to jump again in surprise.

"H-hey, Sam, what's up," she stutters out, letting her eyes go anywhere but in my general direction, although I admit I'm not giving her much in the way of choices.

I smirk at her jittery behavior and place my left hand on the fridge by her head. There isn't anywhere for her to go on the right side due to the cabinets, so I've effectively boxed her in. My mind begins to race with all the filthy opportunities that I could take advantage of now, and now I can't even remember what I came in here to do.

Carly's face reflects fear and anxiety, and if she knew what was going through my head right now, I certainly wouldn't be able to blame her. Without thinking about it or consciously deciding to do it, I lean in closer to her so that our bodies are only a mere two or so inches apart.

"Sam?" Carly questions when I don't respond and my eyes snap up from wandering her scantily-clad body – boy do I love those tiny pajama shorts on her.

"What?" I ask, giving her my twisted version of an innocent smile. I use my free hand to take the ham she was holding and set it down on the counter. It pains me to think this, but now is not the time for ham. I think that thinking that is giving me a nausea induced migraine.

"Can you not do _this_," she says while motioning vaguely between us, "while you're in your boxer-briefs?" Her face is tinted pink and I look down at myself only to find out that Dirty Dangerfield was having the same thoughts as me; and Dirty is a man of action, I'll tell you that.

My face flushes completely red and I'm not sure what's more embarrassing – the fact that I was sporting an erection clearly directed at Carly, or the fact that I didn't know about it. "Well, I guess he's used to you," is all I can think to say, and I smirk in amusement at myself.

"Sam!" Carly exclaims, smacking my arm lightly. "That's so dirty!"

"You didn't seem to think it was dirty when you were handling me in the bathroom last week," I say, moving closer to her and poking her in the stomach with the bulge of my member. This is where being several inches taller than Carly came expressly in handy. "Don't lie, you like Dirty Dangerfield," I say in an accusing tone.

"I-I do not!" she protests, pushing herself further backwards into the fridge in an attempt to get away, but it was a fruitless effort. "I just wanted to help you," she insists.

"So, if I were to ask you to help me now?" I tilt my head and raise my brow and Carly's face takes on an even darker shade of red, and I wasn't exactly sure that was possible until now.

"I would just be grossed out," she says, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her face away from mine. I smirk and with my right hand, I pull down the hem of my underwear, letting my swollen member spring out from its confinement and poke Carly in the stomach less than an inch before where her tank top ends.

"Sam!" Carly exclaims, shoving me away from her and darting in the direction of the living room. "You're so perverted!"

"I was just letting him get some air," I say, chasing after her and tackling her from behind. She makes a noise of surprise and we roll onto the floor as I try to pin both of her wrists down.

"You know, if this was anybody else, it would _so_ be considered rape," Carly mutters, nearly out of breath from struggling.

"It definitely isn't rape if they ask for it," I say, finally getting her hands pinned above her head. I smirk at how she's pouting up at me and I can't help but think about how great it would be if I could get her to actually want me, instead of just being fascinated with my…

"Fuck!" I shriek shrilly at the top of my lungs as agony spreads from my groin throughout my entire body and I see fireworks flash in front of my face. All the air is gone from my lungs in a matter of seconds as I collapse to the ground to Carly's side clutching my package and gritting my teeth.

"Sam! Sam, I'm sorry, I didn't move my knee on purpose! I was just going to sit up!" Carly blurts, kneeling over me with a worried look etched on her face and tears dotting the corners of her eyes that I see when I manage to open one of my eyes.

"It's cool," I hiss, trying to coax sympathy for her from under my piles of burning pain. "I-Ice," I groan out, forcing myself not to vomit as I dry heave. I think she just destroyed my boys and bent Dirty. Great, now I won't be screwing Wendy anytime soon. "Please," I whimper, not able to speak any lower than an alto.

"Okay," Carly nods, springing to her feet and jumping over the couch into the kitchen. She returns to my side a moment later with a bag of ice wrapped in a paper towel. I move a hand away from my crotch and when she presses the ice down, if my balls aren't already in my stomach, they are now.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Carly asks, concern and guilt written all over her face.

"N-no way!" I squeak, trying to sound like I wasn't in complete agony. "I'm fine! I just need to wait it out, is all," I say, but Carly doesn't look at all convinced – and she shouldn't be because I'm lying out my ass to save face.

"Sam, what if it's serious? Your pee-pee might be damaged or even stop working!" she reasons, and my eyes go wide in horror, and not because she just called Dirty Dangerfield something as undignified as a 'pee-pee.'

"Call the ambulance, Carly."

* * *

**P.S - I'm thinking about answering reviews, but I don't know if you guys would like that or not. Let me know what you think.**


	8. Hello, Nurse!

**"FINALLY!" Right?**

**So, hey guys! I know you've all been eagerly anticipating this, and I'm grateful for the patience that I have received. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, really, and I'm sorry if I get any of the 'science' wrong, but anyone who has seen that episode of King of the Hill where Bobby kicks Hank in the nuts will get what I'm talking about (google it and watch it, you won't regret it!). And, I'm looking for a beta by the way. I have SO many stories that I've started for this theme, but I don't think I'll be able to work on more than a few stories actively unless I have a little help.**

**I wanna give a shoutout to two stories that are in this theme, so, definitely go check them out! The first one I wanna mention is _My First Erection_ by super67759, and the other is _iGet It_ by SilverDragonRanger09. Don't forget to leave the authors reviews so that they can be encouraged and continue to add to this little faux-community (;**

**Of course, I'm gonna go ahead and give a shoutout to my own one-shot for this theme:_ iLike to Watch_! Check it out, it's pretty hot :P**

**Special thanks to my reviewers, I just wanna say, thanks you for the support and please don't stop, because the more you bug me, the more I want to get you guys off my case by posting! I mean that in an endearing way. **

**Anyhow, enjoy!**

* * *

I sit fidgeting and anxious in the emergency room alone as they examine Sam, or whatever they're doing to her that's taking so long. I can't help but feel terrible knowing that she was hurt because of me. It was an accident, and I'm sure that Sam understands that, but still – what if the damage is permanent?

I called Spencer while I was in the ambulance to tell him that Sam was hurt and we were going to the hospital. He was worried, but I assured him that everything would be fine and that I was going to stay with Sam overnight. He told me that it would probably be best for me to come home and rest, then go in the morning to see Sam and I relented because I didn't want him to worry too much – he didn't like when I was out too late after all.

When the ambulance arrived, it was about 1.30 AM. The paramedics actually thought that Sam and I were about to, er, 'do it' once they figured out what was what. I was so embarrassed that I could hardly even speak to defend myself. They told me that next time, I had to be more careful and that Sam should have been wearing a condom. I just nodded and told them that I would do my best, while Sam through all of her agony, still found the strength to smart-mouth them. I could still see Sam's annoyed face as the paramedics tried to identify if she was actually legally female.

_"It's not like I have ambiguous fucking genitalia, it's a penis!"_

_"Sam, just calm down," I say, sighing in exasperation at the tension in the ambulance. It was making for an uncomfortable ride._

_"No way! This guy thinks he's funny," she bites out a few pitches higher than her normal speaking voice due to her compromised testicles. She was referring to the paramedic on her left, Chad, who had been trying in a series of futile and terrible-ending attempts to cheer up the blonde after he had made the mistake of overlooked Sam's breasts and addressing her as a 'young man'._

_"What are you talking about? Look at the size of that clitoris!" he said, pointing to Sam's crotch area, which was currently under bags of ice. _

_"Great, now he's ripping off Bob Saget jokes. Won't you just shoot me now?"_

Luckily, the ride to the hospital wasn't too long, which brings me to the present moment of counting the tiles under my feet in an attempt to mask my overwhelming guilt.

"You're Carly Shay, correct?" a nurse asks as she approaches me with a clipboard, she looked worn out and she's watching me warily. I assume that dealing with Sam for however short time she did had lead her to believe that everyone in association with her was more than likely a sociopath, which is understandable because it happens to a lot of people.

I nod and stand from my seat. "Yeah, that's me."

"Alright, because when I asked the patient if she wanted me to contact anyone, she just muttered 'sexy brunette' over and over again until she got tired of moving her jaw, so she just sat in silence for a while staring at the ceiling. Then, she groaned something that sounded like 'Carl's Toupee,' not like that helped much. Finally, the doctor walked in and recognized her from some internet show and told me that you'd be in the ER waiting room according to your Hooter account that he follows."

"Hm, I guess that's the one time pointless Hooting has ever helped me," I say, grinning and eagerly awaiting any news regarding Sam's condition. "So, is she okay?"

"Well, the swelling has gone down considerably and she has been moved to a different wing for additional care and monitoring. She should be out of here in a day or two," the nurse informs me. "Would you like me to take you to see her? She's been asking to see 'Carl's Toupee' for the last hour."

A cheek-splitting smile spreads across my face at the idea of Sam asking to see me, despite the fact that I was the one who caused her all this pain in the first place. "Of course," I say, almost unable to contain a squeal of delight as the nurse nods and turns to lead me to Sam's hospital room.

.

"Hey," I say in a near-whisper, approaching slowly and sitting on the small, white folding chair beside her elevated hospital bed. The bed itself was bent at an angle so that she could sit up more comfortably. Her eyes follow my form across the room and she's smiling excitedly, most likely glad to see a familiar face in this disconcerting environment.

"Hey, kid," she greets me, adjusting her hospital gown which was ridden up so that I can see the bottom of what seemed to be akin to a cast over her private area. "I hate hospitals," she comments, and I know this to be a fact because… well, let's just say because of a previous incident that involved the elderly and a lot of old pudding.

"So," I begin tentatively. She didn't look upset at all, but she did look like she was fairly uncomfortable. "Does it hurt?" I ask, but the answer was obvious - she wouldn't be in the hospital right now if she wasn't in pain.

"Only when I move. And all the time," she relates, more for comedy than to make me feel bad, but I can't help it.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," I gush sorrowfully and it must be the ten-thousandth time I've apologized, but I still don't feel like it's good enough. "I really didn't mean to do this to you, I –" she cuts me off by holding her hand up and smiling at me so softly that the all of the bad feelings in me erode like the sand on a beach is eroded by waves. Yeah, that's it – her smile is the Pacific Ocean.

"Hey, cupcake, don't worry about it." Her voice is a near whisper and without my mind really knowing or consenting, my body had taken a few steps towards her and now I was standing next to the bed. "It was an accident, okay? I know you wouldn't hurt me like that on purpose, so I forgive you," she says, reaching up to stroke the side of my face with the back of her hand tenderly. "Plus, they gave me Vicodin when I came in," she admits, grinning like an imp.

"Thanks, Sam," I say, genuinely thankful for her being so forgiving and feeling the burden of guilt leave me for the most part, although I still knew that I would feel bad whenever I saw Sam's crotch-cast thing. Leaning down towards her, I wrap my arms around her shoulders, though being careful not to injure her further.

I hear her hiss briefly when she shifts her torso towards me, but she gulps down whatever pain or discomfort that she was feeling and embraces me as tight as she probably could. "No, thank you for staying," she says softly against my neck and I know that she meant it - her own mother was nowhere to be found and if it weren't for me, she would have no one. A warm feeling manifests itself in the pit of my stomach and then whatever that small spark was dies as I felt Sam inappropriately fondle my chest.

"What the -" I pull back and fix the blonde with a look of shock and betrayal. "Sam!"

"That was for kneeing me in the sack and bruising Dirty Dangerfield!" she shoots back, folding her arms over her chest, appearing totally unapologetic, and I guess it was kind of a fair trade-off except for the fact that I wasn't notified of said 'trade-off'. If that's what it would take for me to be wiped clean of my misdoings, then it was a small price to pay; not that I necessarily disliked it.

.

**Sam's Point of View**

_I stare at the middle aged physician standing before me with my mouth agape as I try to gather my words up to a point where I would be coherent and he could understand me._

_"So, you're saying my left nut is lost somewhere in my stomach and you can't find it?" I ask incredulously, my voice reaching a peak of height in its range. "What the hell are you talking about? The sack is just __**not**__ the same without both of them!"_

_"Well, you see, the impact with your girlfriend's knee caused it to -"_

_"She's not my girlfriend," I interject sharply before I could stop myself, and mentally, I berate myself for my outburst, blushing furiously as the tall, graying man arches an eyebrow. "Wuh, I mean, will I be getting my nut back?" I ask calmly, blinking at the doctor with wide eyes and an unnerving smile. When in doubt, creep them out. I'm loaded up with enough Vicodin to make this work._

_"Er, well, of course," he answers nervously, averting his gaze from me and looking down, shuffling the papers in his hands._

_"How long will it take?" I question again, this time without the strange expression. I examine the black stethoscope that hangs around his neck and it occurs to me that I was going to miss House unless I could find it on the hospital's television._

_"It could take a few days," he muses out loud, scratching his mustache absently, then shrugs. "Or it could take two weeks, you just have to wait it out. Until then, be very careful and conscious when moving your body, and don't strain yourself further," he advises, writing on a small piece of paper that I assume was going to be for my pain-killer prescription._

_"This sucks," I whine, running a hand through my tangled, curling locks. "I was supposed to get laid this weekend, too."  
_

_"You should count yourself lucky," he informs me. "I'd kill to have a pecker your size. But don't worry, I'll hook you up," he says and I'm wondering what he could mean._

_As a near afterthought, he continues. "Also, you're going to have to wear this for three weeks," he says, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it up for me to see. I groan in distaste as my face falls down into my hands in dread._

"Wow, so you're gonna have to wear a protective cup for three whole weeks?" Carly asks, looking guilty and fascinated at the same time.

"Yeah, it's so lame," I grumble, crossing my over my chest. My head turns as I hear the door open, and I don't regret wasting my neck energy to do that one bit.

"Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," a drop-dead gorgeous blonde woman steps into the room cautiously. She's tall and dressed in the hospitals nursing uniform, but I'm still finding it hard to keep my tongue from lolling out of my head at the mere sight of her.

"I'm Ray and I'm going to be your night-time nurse for the next few days. I'm just going to check you out a little bit, and then I'll be administering your pain killers," she says in a friendly voice, sending a warm smile my way before she checks up on my chart, briefly scanning it before getting to work.

"Uh..." I was at a loss for words. "Awesome," I finally mutter, eying the other blonde up and down. "Maybe this hospital visit won't be so bad," I comment, and Carly rolls her eyes, shaking her head. She looks like she's going to respond, but the door opens again a moment later.

"Hey, kiddo," Spencer makes his presence known as he stands in the doorway. "Sam, are you okay?" he asks, sounding concerned. The tall man looks like he hasn't showered in two days and that looks like a shirt he was wearing the last time we saw him. I could only theorize on what he's been up to.

"Hi Spencer," Carly greets her older brother and she appears to have noticed his scraggly appearance as well, though she chooses not to comment on it.

"Yeah, you know me," I say, confidently. "I'm indestructible," I declare, but it seems that he's only just noticed Ray because he's openly staring and it looks like his pants might fall to the floor at any moment.

"That's... great, Sam," he answers me absently while gawping at the nurse. "Hi, I'm Spencer Shay, Carly's older brother," he introduces himself, smiling charmingly as he took an approaching step towards her, holding his hand out for her to shake.

The blonde turns to him and smiles sweetly. "Only one visitor allowed in the room at a time," she informs him in a sterile manner before turning away from him to continue her work.

Spencer turns to stare blankly down at the floor for a moment with his eyes wide before he shrugs and walks out of the room. Carly and I share a laugh before she hugs me again and places a kiss on my cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she says looking at me with her large brown eyes, and I blush a little and nod.

"Yeah, see ya, Carls," I say, my voice harboring a hint of a flustered tone, but I get my confidence and give her a smack on the ass as she turns to go, earning me a sharp yet playful look as I watch her take her exit, which left me in the room alone with my attractive nurse.

What a complete dilemma.

A minute goes by before I decide to speak. "You know, you're probably one of the most gorgeous women I've ever seen," I comment offhandedly. "I'd love to take you out some time."

The way I see it, being bold is an art I have mastered, because even without my left nut I still have the balls to try and talk game to my sexy caretaker.

After processing what I said, she giggles shyly and continues her work. "Thank you very much, but I'm not really interested in girls," she replies, not looking up to meet my gaze.

Not one to easily be deterred - unless you count moments of pure laziness - I decide to push the envelope. "Well then, what if I told you that there was a seven inch penis under these sheets?" I question, eyeing her intently and donning my best poker face - I like to call it the Puckett Poker Extreme and it is 100% unbreakable. She turns to look at me, eyes finally meeting mine, and she's blushing a tiny bit, although it could just be my imagination.

"I'd say that you're bonkers," she replies, her electric blues alight with curiosity.

"Good, because I'm lying," I declare matter-of-factly, shrugging before a smirk creeps onto my face. "It's actually eight inches," and she's giving me a mixture of confusion and fascination. Hooked.

Right when she looks like she's about to respond to me, I speak again to cut her off. "I've been here for over an hour and I still haven't been fed," I say, less of an observation and more of a complaint.

She gives me a look before walking across the room to examine my chart again, flipping a few pages. "It says here that you'll be brought breakfast at eight AM," she dictates and I groan audibly. "Are you hungry?" she asks, and I can tell from her voice that she's very compassionate. Score for me, because that means I can probably manipulate her.

"If I don't eat soon, I'll probably die," I deadpan and she smiles in amusement. "I'm glad you think it's funny," I mutter, hopefully adding guilt into the mix.

"I don't," she defends herself while grinning. "I'll go get something from the cafeteria," she says before leaving me alone to formulate.

* * *

**I HOPE SOMEONE NOTICED: The part about Wendy being a mind reader was indeed a shout out the cool/neat story , starring Wendy,_ iKnow How You Feel_ by K9GM3. I actually like that pairing and I'll be putting some work into that ship soon, if I have time. **

**Hooter, my own 'Schneiderism' for Twitter :P It really is an art.**

**Leave me a review if you liked it! Leave me two if you didn't (;**


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